The Guilty Condemn Themselves
by nixandschnitz
Summary: Monty's guilt over his part in the deaths at Mount Weather haunt him.


It's a never-ending darkness. A demon clawing it's way to the surface.

There's no physical wound, but the pain centering in his chest eats a hole in his heart, in his soul, and he just can't find his way out, it keeps him from sleeping.

And, of course, Jasper hates him. Can't even bear to look at him.

Monty might be able to bear the guilt at his part in the mass murder on Mount Weather, should he have his best friend to confide in; but Maya-she died at Monty's hand and that's something Jasper just can't forgive.

Not that he blames him.

Monty might not have been the one to pull the lever, no that had been Clarke and Bellamy, but they wouldn't have been able to save their people at the expense of human life had Monty not made it possible. His hands were covered in blood, drowning in it.

He helped save their people, but at what cost? Clarke left camp, Bellamy's not speaking to anyone, except his sister. Not leading their group of delinquents, just spending the days in solitude, or drunk. If they couldn't bear the guilt, how could anyone expect Monty to deal?

It's been ten days since they left Mount Weather. Ten days since Monty went from juvenile delinquent from the Ark to murderer. He can't sleep, can't eat without seeing their faces, nameless strangers...kids...Maya. She didn't deserve to die, she did everything she could to help them escape.

Monty's no stranger to death, but killing a grounder in defence during the attacks when they first settled here is different.

He gets up and makes his way to Clarke's old tent. For some reason, feeling the remains of her presence helps settle his soul. He thinks of what she say, about how you do what you can to save your people. He always sleeps on the floor by her bed. Something he used to do as a kid, sleeping with his parents when he had a really bad nightmare about being floated because he didn't eat all his rations or clean his teeth before bed. He laughs, just a small huff that cracks a smirk to his face. His chest feels, lighter, just for a moment.

He sees Bellamy asleep on her cot when he walks in. First time they saw each other here, it just clicked. Everyone joked about the two leaders, mom and dad, because where do you go when you need comfort as a kid? Straight to mom. Clarke was the healer back at the dropship, healing all their physical wounds; it just follows that she'd be the one to help with the hurts you can't sew back up with a needle and thread. Their shared experiences at the hands of Mount Weather strengthen the bond between the two men. Bellamy's not one to share his feelings, but Monty could see from that the little nod of affirmation, there's no need to go into details, but sharing that pain helps.

* * *

Monty wakes up alone in the tent, just like the past four days, not well rested but at least he won't go crazy from sleep deprivation. Small victories, take them where you can.

They're still staying with the Arkers, trying to fit in, trying to coexist after being in charge, letting the adults take the lead. Most of them are restless, feeling like kids again, always being told to get out of the way and let the grown ups decide. At least Kane is trying. He looks to Bellamy at times, asking for his input, brilliant tactic since their fearless leader helped keep them alive after all this time, Bellamy has the trust of the 100. Bellamy offers his opinion, but his heart's not in it, Monty can see that. Bell's not weak, not fearful but it's hard to be a leader when you've got no one at your side to weigh the pros and cons. His leader is damaged, but he's not a machine Raven can piece back together.

* * *

He sits by the dying embers of the fire, drinking the last of the moonshine he mixed up with Jasper, before. Trying to chase away his demons, the ghosts and faces hiding behind his lids every time he closes his eyes.

"You saved all of us, you know that? Not just me, or Harper. But every last Arker and Grounder." Miller says as he plops down next to him .

"I killed all those people. Those kids..." Monty's not trying to wallow in self pity, he just can't see past that.

"But think of all the these kids-our friends- they already killed and would kill to survive? After all, didn't Kane try to convince that guy that we'd donate, help each other out? He refused. It's the law of the jungle man. Kill or be killed." Miller exhales, grabs his shoulder, forcing Monty to look at him. "Look, I'm not saying... What I'm trying to say is I get it. The guilt. We've all done things we're not proud of, that we have to see when we see our face in a mirror. Look what I did to that Octavia's grounder, what's his name-Lincoln-he helped settle my dad when he needed it, reminded him it was me that he was fighting for, how much he loved me. Me? Some punk kid that liked taking his anger out, beating him while he was tied and unarmed. Not quite a stand up guy myself, huh? You're one of those smart kids, what does your brain tell you? Step back and look at it without feeling. Logically."

They sit in silence, Monty's inner turmoil fighting with his brain, his logic. Miller's words echoing.

Miller snags the moonshine from him and takes a drink. From the corner of his eye Monty sees movement, not many people out and about this late. The figure gets more defined as it comes closer. It's Clarke. She's come back to camp. She's making her way to her tent. He can only imagine the relief that Bellamy is going to feel.

Monty smiles at Miller, that tightness in his chest loosening, the void in his soul shrinking.

We bear it, so the others won't have to, but we don't have to bear it alone.

Not anymore.


End file.
